Apologies first of all for there being no Friday retirement blog. A technical problem prevented me posting. Very frustrating but here we are on the Tuesday.
I‘m not quite sure in what order this retirement blog and the first Saturday blog will be posted. Maybe by the time I’ve finished it and the second one I will have made a decision. At this point the whole of last Saturday is such a jumble, and that’s an understatement, it’s hard to say.
This blog is about the second half of Saturday, the part which covers my grammar school reunion. This reunion marked the 60th anniversary of those of us who started at Heanor Grammar school in 1959. Apparently they had intended to celebrate the 50th anniversary of us leaving the school in 2016 but they missed it, so this was its replacement.
Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have mattered to me because I wouldn’t have attended either of them. I have made a point of not attending any kind of reunion of any of the educational institutions I’ve blessed with my presence over the years. My school holds six-monthly reunion meetings not a single one of which I have attended in over 50 years. So you wouldn’t call me a serial reunion attender. In this case I was tracked down by one of the organisers on the phone. Hard to say no on the phone. So I said I’d be delighted to come. Not true.
I mean what do you say at such events? What do you want to have happened to this, in this case, my school chums, bunch over the last 60 years? I suppose you want them to have done well but not too well. You see that’s why I don’t go. I can’t help but feel that somehow these reunions will bring out the worst in my character and that’s not good. Better to keep that side of me under wraps.
There were about 100 of us who started, as a 3 form entry, in 1959. The projected attendance for this ‘do’ was about half of this. At school there were 5 of us who were pretty close friends. While we kept in touch for a couple of years when we’d all gone our separate ways to our colleges (art college in my case) and universities, after that we did what people do I guess, we drifted apart and lost contact.
The list of those who were coming showed 2 of these 4 friends. The other two hadn’t been tracked down at all. Still it might (I emphasise might) be nice to meet up with the two that were coming and compare notes. One a solicitor and the other a dentist. Not immediately obvious what we might have in common. But I need not have worried because they didn’t show up either. Hmm.*
Of course there were people there who I did remember. I can’t say I recognised them from their faces but then you wouldn’t expect after 50 odd years that they’d look the same, would you? So instead of looking at the people you sidled round the room squinting at their name badges.
Ahh, you’re so and so, would have recognised you anywhere. You’ve lost weight, hair, memory, intelligence. Or is that me? In some cases it was a case of gained in the first category but the remaining three were all losses.
The only thing I’d worked out that would be OK to say would be to ask, so what have you been doing since you left school? I used my only tactic three or four time but couldn’t help but notice that the question was not reciprocated while their protracted life experiences were trotted out. Well stuff this for a game of soldiers I thought. After this there was just a random assortment of half-asked questions and comments.
One chap, whose name I recognised, said we used to exchange drawings of fighter planes in RE. You’d draw a Spitfire pass it to me and I’d draw a Messerschmitt shooting it down, hand it back to you and you’d draw a Hurricane shooting down my Messerschmitt. Do you remembers? How we laughed. Yes, of course I remember, great wasn’t it? Nice chap I had no memory whatsoever of what he was talking about. Would have been cruel to disabuse him.
Probably the worst part of this random memorising was reading the name of a fellow pupil who I’d done something despicable to. Do you remember how I pulled your chair from under you as you were sitting down? What a giggle. No, I kept the thought to myself but the question was did he remember? This is true by the way.
I met a chap called, first name omitted for anonymity, second name, Horne. My blood chilled in my veins as I remember my friend and I (one of the five above) strangling this pupil with his scarf. One of us at either end, him in the middle going a delicate shade of purple and gurgling. Making enough noise to cause the chemistry teacher (yes, this was in a lesson) to exclaim, for goodness sake what’s the matter Horne? My witty friend answered, please sir, it’s a mountain in Switzerland. Well, perhaps you had to be there. This guy certainly was, question was did he remember and had he waited all these years to get even? If he had he’s still waiting.
I was quite relieved to have these random but worrying exchanges cut short by one of the organisers calling us to attention. He read out messages of good will from those round the world that could not be here. Including those who were dead (their names not their messages). Fair enough I suppose, it’s a good excuse not to be there.
My relief was short-lived because we only went and sang the school hymn. Completely forgotten we had a school hymn but it all came flooding back to me when we started.
He who would valiant be, ‘gainst all disaster. Let him in constancy, follow the master. There’s no discouragement, shall make him once relent, his first avowed intent, to be a pilgrim.
It went on. Bloody hell, did I really knock that out with conviction in my youth? Can’t say it’s seen me through the dark, discouraging times since but no doubt it was there if I dug deep enough when needed. Marvellous. I looked round the room and most of us were belting it out with gusto (we had the words on a sheet) apart from one or two of the gaga ones who were doing an excellent impression of a goldfish. I told you there was a nasty side I was trying to keep out of sight.
And on that slightly cynical note, I’ll draw this retirement blog to a close. It was an interesting experience and of course these life events provide rich pickings for this retired person’s blog.
*Nor did my first and only girlfriend from my year. It was fashionable in those days, if you were in the Sixth form, to go out with girls in Year 4. Can’t think why. So another no show. And you can see what a good-looking chap I was third from left in the tennis team photo above, yes I know we look a bunch of wallies.